Nightclub Lights
by obsidian butterfly2
Summary: An unlikely meeting bathed in the pallor of nightclub lights.


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. All original characters and situations belong to me.

**NIGHTCLUB LIGHTS**

Sirius paused at the door to the club. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face, trying to wipe away the weariness. He'd been in hiding for God knows how long, years now wasn't it? Well, that was all over. No more shrinking into the shadows. Not much point in that. Voldemort was dead. Harry was dead. He'd seen it.

He was in the room when Draco Malfoy stabbed Harry. He was there, and unable to help. Body battered by hexes; slumped over Dumbledore's dead body, he was sure Darkness had won. He watched as Voldemort stepped up to Draco, still clutching the bloody dagger. He watched stunned as Draco plunged the same knife deep into Voldemort's heart. Over and over again. He saw him drop the blood-slicked knife onto the stained marble floor. He heard him whisper in a strained forced voice, "I ended it, you bastard. I promised I would, and I did." He did not try to stop him as he walked from the bloody scene. Draco was never seen again.

That was four years ago. Four years for Sirius to relive how he had failed everyone. James and Lily were the first to go, before the war even started. Or perhaps, that was the true beginning of it all. Pettigrew was next, he may have been a traitor, but at one time, he was his friend. That memory alone was worth grieving for. Then, as the fighting escalated, Remus was killed by Lucius Malfoy. All he had left was Harry. And of course, that meant Harry had to be taken from him as well.

Draco Malfoy took care of that. Well, Draco Malfoy took care of most of the high-profile murders, surprising enough, on both sides. He'd cut his way through the leaders of both sides, unprejudiced in his killing. And he had, as he said, ended it all. Thanks mainly to him, the war was over, the killings came to an end. Perhaps the Ministry of Magic had overreacted slightly after his disappearance, jailing every wizard who ever had contact with the Death Eaters. That meant about half the already decimated wizarding population was sent to Azkaban.

Four years ago that was, a bunch of school kids and old frail grandparents were shut up in Azkaban. Two years ago every last one of them escaped in one night. Rumour was Draco Malfoy, who had by now attained a somewhat mysterious anti-hero status, led them out. All that was left in the jail was a note reading, "It's the end."

Sirius pushed these memories away and opened the door to the club. A thick, sultry voice flowed out and over him, hooking him and drawing him in. Eyes adjusting to the dim smoky interior of the joint, he focused his gaze on the stage, where a woman singing commanded attention. Dressed in a clingy red gown complimenting her olive skin and flaunting her figure, Sirius couldn't help but stare in amazement at her vitality. She was larger-than-life, from her wild black hair and full red lips contorting as she sang, to her long thin fingers reaching out to the audience, pleading and grasping with ghostly ease. She shifted her weight, one of her long legs stepping out through the slit in her dress, muscles strained from balancing in painfully high heels. She swayed gently in time with her song and every eye in the club followed her sensuous motion.

He made his way over to the bar, still slightly dazed by the singer. Sitting heavily on the stool, he signalled the bartender over, eyes never leaving the lady in red. "G and T, make it strong," he ordered. After a moment a glass came to a halt next to his hand. Nodding acknowledgment, he raised the glass to his lips. The singer stepped forward, dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she lent towards the crowd. Her voice was smooth, seductive. It rolled over him like a calming mist. He felt that he could almost reach out and touch each word, hanging solid in the air.

His riviere was jolted somewhat by a figure sliding only the stool beside his. "Mr. Black," the newcomer spoke softly, his words an undertone to the singing, "I trust you had no trouble finding my business?" Sirius turned to face the voice. His eyes met with the steely ones which could only belong to one person. Finding himself unable to articulate the words, he merely stared at Draco. He had received an anonymous message the previous day, asking him to come to this club. Curiosity had driven him here. Draco smirked. "Not expecting me, Mr Black?" He continued on before Sirius could answer. "I mean you no harm," he laid both hands on the bar counter in clear view, "I merely want to conclude my last piece of unfinished business."

Sirius regarded the younger man dispassionately. Wearing a loose black shirt only half buttoned and tailored black pants, pale hair slicked back, he looked more like a playboy rather than the Zorro of the wizarding world. Yet there was a certain rigidity in his disposition that spoke of his past life as a magical assassin. "And what is that, Mr Malfoy," Sirius spoke in the same soft tone Draco employed. Draco's smirk smoothed out into a smile. "Four years ago you saw me kill your godson. I need to know if you hold that against me and those I protect." Sirius stilled. He did not expect this. "Why did you bother coming out of hiding to tell me this?" he asked, "Wouldn't it have just been safer to leave it?" "I don't like loose ends. They have a habit of coming back to bite you on the arse. If you held it against me, one day you may want retribution and find some way of harming me."

Sirius nodded. He could understand this reasoning. Yet, it seemed Draco was holding something back. Sirius had impeccable instincts and they had never let him down. "There's something else. Something you're hiding." Draco's face registered shock for a moment before he smoothed his features over by sheer will power. A heavy silence hung between the two as Draco considered his reply and Sirius considered Draco. Abruptly, Draco laughed; a short bark of laughter, humourless and dry. "I might as well tell you," he muttered, more to himself than to Sirius. "Not like it's gonna hurt me." He raised his gaze to meet the older man's. "You understand you cannot tell anyone this, especially not Blaise." He paused at Sirius' confused expression. "Blaise? Blaise Zabini?" he asked, vaguely recalling the daughter of long-dead classmates of his. Draco nodded, gesturing with his head towards the stage. Towards the singer. Sirius worked hard to control his surprise. "Can't tell what?" Draco suddenly looked wrung out. "I'm dying," he didn't allow Sirius time to react, "have been for about a year now. Lung cancer, you know. It's bugger to detect, mine was noted too late. I have a couple of months left now. Livin' them up, but there are a couple of matters I have to take care of," his eyes flicked to the stage. Sirius noticed. "Some people you have to take care of," he added quietly. Draco gave an almost imperceptible nod. "What does she mean to you?" Draco looked taken aback by the question. "She's all I've got left. Both of us don't have any family now, they were all killed," he paused briefly, "or I killed them. She's all I've got, and I'm all she's got."

There was a pause in the singing and the two men looked at the stage. Blaise saw them and blew a kiss across the room. Draco smiled effortlessly. She winked back at him as she resumed her singing.

"I'm leaving her everything," Draco continued, "This bar, our house and some money I have stashed in Gringotts accounts. It should be enough, she knows how to be careful." Draco turned to face Sirius again. "Anyhow, I didn't intend to burden you with this. I planned on tying up all the loose ends I had. When I'm gone, she'll be free and clear of anything I've done. I trust you understand, understood my motives?" Sirius thought about it before nodding to both implied meanings. "You'll have no trouble from me." Draco seemed somewhat relieved. "That is good. Drinks on the house, old chap. Stay as long as you like. I'll see that you'll always be welcomed here." Sirius bowed his head in acquiescence.

He stayed late into the night, far into the morning. Drinking endless gin and tonics, watching the various acts on the stage. None could compare with Blaise's singing; attention would always waver until she returned to the stage. Dawn was breaking when Sirius decided to leave. Draco and Blaise were dancing to a blues tune, bodies pressed tightly together, moving slowly to the beat. He rose from his stool, nodded to the bartender, waved to the lover-couple on the floor, and stumbled to the door.

Sirius paused at the door out of the club. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face, trying to wipe away the weariness. Opening the exit, he looked back once more at the couple before the door slid closed. He leant against the sidewalk, bathed in the pale shadow of the nightclub light.


End file.
